


breakable heaven

by waveydnp



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bittersweet Ending, Closeted Character, Kissing, M/M, One Night Stands, they both have girlfriends and they kiss each other so technically there’s cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 18:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20394088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: fever dream high in the quiet of the night





	breakable heaven

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by taylor swift’s song cruel summer

He meets him at the cinema. He’s stood next to a vending machine, head hung low, curls lit up in the red glow of a giant can of coke. He’s got rips in his jeans and a white t-shirt and arms Phil can imagine bracketing his head on a bed.

Phil doesn’t think like that. He doesn’t look at people and imagine what they’d look like on top of him. He’s a good boy. He’s got a girlfriend he’s trying really hard to be attracted to.

The guy looks up, catches Phil staring. Phil doesn’t look away, because this guy’s eyes have a hold on his like they’re magnetized. Phil’s holding his girlfriend's hand, and his palms are sweating. The guy smiles a crooked little smile and a dimple dents his cheek right in the middle and Phil knows he’s fucked even if he never sees this guy again.

She’ll never make him feel like that.

-

He does see the guy again. They’re seeing the same film, and Phil is sat two rows in front of him. He only looks back once, but the guy notices. He grins like he knows everything. He grins like he can see right into Phil’s head and read his secrets like a book.

Phil excuses himself to use the toilet half an hour into the film. He can’t stop bouncing his leg and wondering what the back of his head looks like. He can’t stop wondering if he’s the only one wondering.

He stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. He still looks like himself: beaky nose, high cheekbones, alien shaped skull. Black quiff, black glasses, white skin. Blue eyes, pink lips, nothing special.

The door opens, and there he is, grinning at Phil in the mirror’s reflection.

Phil doesn’t turn around. He stares at the glass. This isn’t real, it can’t be.

“Your girlfriend is pretty,” the guy says.

“Not as pretty as you.”

Phil doesn’t say stuff like that.

“You have nice eyes,” the guy says, taking a step closer, and then another. He stands right behind Phil, breathes warm on his neck like they’ve agreed to something without a single word.

Phil would agree. He’d agree to anything this guy wanted.

“Not as nice as yours.”

“You like looking at me.”

Phil nods. He wants to do more than look, but he’s a good boy.

“Your girlfriend doesn’t know you like looking at boys.”

Phil shakes his head. No one knows.

“Mine doesn’t either.”

Phil’s insides are shimmering. “You like looking at me too,” he says.

The guy steps closer. Their bodies are touching. “I never wanna stop looking at you.”

“This is crazy.”

The guy’s lips brush Phil’s neck. “Maybe it’s a fever dream.”

“I don’t wanna wake up,” Phil says.

He says, “I’m Dan.”

Phil says, “You’re a dream.”

Dan says, “Let me buy you a drink. Later. Tonight.”

“It’s already tonight.”

“When your girlfriend is gone. Take her home and come back out for me.”

“I’m not out for anyone,” Phil says. “And you’re not real.”

“Dreams are real while you’re dreaming them.”

Phil turns around. “I don’t wanna wake up.”

Dan pushes him against the counter. “Then don’t. Have a drink with me.”

-

Phil takes his girlfriend home, kisses her cheek at her front door. She invites him in and he makes an excuse. He doesn’t want soft curves and blonde hair. He never has. The world thinks he should and he doesn’t want to be wrong, but he wants his fever dream more than he wants to be right.

He meets Dan at a bar. They each drink a beer and Phil tries not to look too much. In the low light with music in the background, Dan looks like something Phil can have. Dreams feel real in the middle of the night.

They go outside after. Dan’s hands are big and Phil’s are shoved into his pockets. They don’t say much, and the air is warm and still. The streets are quiet, and Phil follows where Dan leads, to a small flat in Camden with a blue door on squeaky hinges.

Dan makes him a drink, Malibu and coke, and it tastes like university. It warms Phil’s throat and buzzes in his fingers as they sit opposite each other on Dan’s sofa, legs crossed under their bodies and voices pitched low as they talk.

Because now they talk. They talk about movies and music and video games. They talk about London and Manchester where Dan went to school and Manchester-adjacent where Phil grew up. They talk about their mums and their brothers. Phil talks about his dad and Dan says his is an asshole who isn’t worth the breath Dan would need to speak about him.

They don’t talk about their girls. Phil forgets he has one. He likes this dream better, because in this dream he can crawl across the distance between them on the sofa and press his mouth to that of another man. In this dream, the man kisses back and he tastes like rum and sugar and smells like woodsy cologne and puts his tongue in Phil’s mouth.

It’s the best kiss Phil’s ever had in his life, and every broken piece he’s ever felt in his lungs when he kissed his girlfriend fits into place when he kisses Dan.

He’s drunk on more than alcohol that night. It’s dark in Dan’s flat, and a candle burns soft and clean smelling on the coffee table as they kiss. And they kiss for hours, until Phil can’t feel his face and he’s been hard so long it hurts and he’s memorized the shape and taste of Dan’s mouth and the sound of his sighs and he never ever wants to leave.

But he has to leave eventually, when the first rays of light touch the sky and the dream comes to an end. He calls a car and leaves without giving Dan his number. Dan doesn’t ask for it, but he’s got a mouth shaped bruise on his neck to remember Phil by, and Phil has the indelible shape of Dan etched into his soul.

The city looks blue as the buildings blur together in his view out the window of the taxi. His driver says, “Long night, eh there, mate?” and Phil says, “Not really.” It wasn’t a long night. It was a dream, and the good ones always end too soon.


End file.
